Other lists here.
I’m not a conservative, but I’ll play:
1. The Lord of the Flies – William Golding
Although I had read other literary classics before this one, Golding’s book was perhaps the first book I read as an adolescent that showed me the power of language, symbolism, and carefully crafted narrative.
2. Jude the Obscure – Thomas Hardy
I read this book for a class in high school. I wasn’t the slightest bit interested in the book and put it off for weeks, but when I finally forced myself to read the first few pages I was hooked and consumed the book in a couple of days. I can’t recall if Hardy’s bleak worldview matched my own before I read Jude, but it certainly matched afterwards, at least for the duration of my high school years.
3. Firestarter – Stephen King
The first “adult” novel I ever read. (I was in seventh grade.) I don’t think it’s King’s best book, but as it introduced me to my lifelong love of supernatural fiction, I have to give credit where it’s due.
4. Bartleby the Scrivener – Herman Melville
Another book — technically a novella, really — from high school, read for a class in philosophy. This tale, along with Kafka’s “In the Penal Colony,” began my love for literary ambiguity.
5. Money – Martin Amis
Dark, volatile, and hilarious, Amis’s book is a masterpiece of voice and style. For years after I read this book and London Fields I found myself uncontrollably imitating Amis’s voice in everything I wrote, an annoying habit I had to force myself to abandon.
6. Jernigan – David Gates
Another masterpiece of voice, another dark, funny book. Gates was riffing here on Beckett, but as I hadn’t read any Beckett, I didn’t know that. Jernigan, the narrator, is egotistical, intelligent, self-conscious to a fault, and often very annoying. To this day his voice matches the one inside my own head, at least from time to time, as much as it shames me to admit it.
7. The Collected Strange Stories – Robert Aickman
Aickman’s amalgam of bleakness, horror, ambiguity, and the surreal was irresistible to me from the moment I read the first of his many great stories. (For me, the first was “The Swords.”) I’ve devoured his writing, admired it, imitated it, and, I hope by now, completely absorbed it. There is nothing I would rather achieve as a writer than the sublime effects on the unconscious he so deftly captured on the page.
8. The Book of Disquiet – Fernando Pessoa
Pessoa said his book was a “factless autobiography,” and that’s as good a description as any. From today’s perspective the book reads like a particularly insightful blog. Sections are short, like diary entries. Pessoa will begin with an event that struck him in the course of a day and then riff on it, turn it on its side, take it apart, look underneath it for meaning. A beautiful book that I constantly return to for inspiration.
9. Altmann’s Tongue – Brian Evenson
The stories in this book — many of which are less than a page long — are dark, ambiguous, and written in a deadpan style that somehow intensifies both the horror and the humor. I love all of Evenson’s work, but this book introduced me to his narrative approach and led me to write my own, far less successful short-shorts.
10. Fatelessness – Imre Kertesz
A few years ago, my own ignorance of world fiction — fiction in translation — began to embarrass me. I decided to rectify the situation by making a New Year’s resolution to read as many Nobel-prize winning authors, particularly foreign-language writers, as I could. The experience introduced me to a number of writers I’d probably never have read otherwise, including Kertesz, a Hungarian concentration camp survivor. Fatelessness is the story of another concentration camp survivor — Kertesz says the book is not autobiographical, but how could it not be? — a fifteen-year-old who somehow finds moments of happiness at the camp. What’s striking about the novel is the tone: the narration is unsentimental, at times callow, and utterly genuine. Like all children, the narrator perceives himself as separate from the proceedings, above the fray, almost immortal. He never succumbs to the idea the he’ll die, even when death for him is very close. The book is a testament to the way a state of mind can help anyone withstand the whims of fate.